


steady beat

by thebrotherswholoved



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Doctors & Physicians, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Injury, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Sam, Oneshot, Sibling Incest, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: thebrotherswholoved, Wincest - Freeform, i am exhausted, i guess, mention of miscarriage, mention of stillbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrotherswholoved/pseuds/thebrotherswholoved
Summary: Based on a suggestion/prompt on the hellsite from @supernaturalwinter:  "A car accident and one of the boys end up getting a CAT scan or blood test that shows there’s a uterus/hormones found in pregnancy are high"Yes, I switched the plot up a wee bit. Sue me.





	steady beat

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the fookin' tags for warnings (i.e. car accident, hospital, injury, etc.). I hope you like this shit, it's fluffy and gross at the end but I'm a touch starved gay so I couldn't help myself oops.
> 
> There's a lot of medical stuff because as everyone RPing with me right now (hello) knows, I'm prepping for my NCLEX practice session and cannot English.
> 
> ALSO YES I KNOW IT DOESN'T SOUND CANON SHUT UPPP.

 

It was just a normal hunt. Probably a vengeful spirit or some ghost trapped in the veil, neither of which are new to Sam and Dean.

 

It was just a normal hunt. Every precaution was taken and the bones of a seventeen year old girl who had died in Colorado a seventy years prior with an axe in her head were salted and burned, a family was saved, and they resigned over evil once again.

 

It was just a normal hunt. Until, of course, they tossed the weapons duffel bag into the trunk of Baby and sped off to find their next adventure, radio blaring “Miss American Pie” by Don McLean and the windows rolled down to let the cool-ish southern Denver air seep into the impala and refresh their dust-coated senses. Sam gave Dean a bitchface for his choice of music, leaned back in his seat, and secretly hummed along.

 

Everything was fine until they met the true evil in the world with full force, the headlights of the other car blinding both of them as static filled their ears and the smell of iron took over their minds before their eyes closed to darkness. 

 

Everyone always thought the Winchester boys were invincible and that they had Death on a leash, but lord knows they can bleed and die just like any Average Joe. Deep down, the people who know them kind-of expect that they’ll die together, guns blazing and fighting evil; but nobody expected them to go out in Dean’s beloved car at twelve twenty seven in the morning while going 75 miles per hour on the I-25. Even they thought that they’d die in pools of blood under the heel of some Big-Bad or the under the sky as it falls, not with Dean nearly crushed beneath the impala’s roof and Sam hunched over in the passenger seat, both boys nearly drowning in their own blood as it dribbles into their eyes, noses, and mouths. 

 

The man’s name was Justin Bristol, aged 38 and wearing a wedding ring when the cops arrived. The reality is that he’d been recently divorced and his former wife had taken their four kids with her, leaving him with nothing but the bottle to turn to. Nearly twelve beer cans were found littering his car, a crappy 2005 Toyota, and one cracked bottle of whiskey laid in his hand when the EMT called his “time of death,” though he’d died a short while prior to their arrival. 

 

The coroner’s report was filed and the cause of the accident was deemed “driving under the influence,” a shitty way to say that two six-packs and a bottle ‘o hunter’s helper nearly did three people in instead of just one. In fact, the brothers were so badly hurt and caked in blood that they were almost pronounced dead as well, but Dean sputtered awake for a split second, muttered his brother’s name, and fell back into unconsciousness.

 

This incident wasn't mentioned in the police report. The report never mentioned the whole story and what transpired afterwards, the lives that were changed down as a result of the accident either.

* * *

Sam didn’t wake up until he’d already been in recovery four hours. Dean woke up after two but, given the different doses of anaesthesia they were put under to go under the knife, that was to be expected.

 

Fortunately, the older only suffered a few broken ribs and a nasty gash along the side of his head, shrapnel still embedded in the flesh at the time of the operation, which took only a few hours. Sam, however, was less lucky and gave the doctors quite a scare with his punctured lung and regional internal bleeding, but they were able to get everything under control after hours of operation.

 

Dean wakes up with a start and his adrenaline starts gushing through his body like a tidal wave. If he would have woken up with a gun in his hand, he’d probably be shooting like a maniac right now, still trapped inside the car according to his mind. The thing that makes him realize that he’s no longer crushed under the roof of his beloved impala is the tugging of wires at his wrist, which he follows until he reaches their source: an IV bag. Then he hears the ticking, beeping, and chattering outside his room, which is followed by a dull pain that just envelopes his whole body and makes his sutures ache. _God damnit, he hates hospitals._

 

His calloused hand reaches up to feel the bandage wrapped around his head and he groans, knowing that he looks like a fool and not the guy who helped save the world—twice.  Dean almost collapses when this thought is processed in full: Sam. Where the hell is Sam? Had he died? Did he kill him? Where did they take his little brother, and who’s he gonna have to kill to find him?

 

Taking a deep breath, he stands up only to fall right back down in agony. After all the ribs he’s broken, one would think that he’d learn that standing up and inhaling hurt like a bitch. He knows, he just doesn’t care. No, all he cares about is Sammy, who is god knows where.

 

It takes him a few shallow breaths and a second to psych himself up, but he manages to get to his feet without falling only to have the dull ache from his concussion nearly floor him as well. Once those annoying obstacles are overcome, he makes a move to leave the austere room but is hindered when the IV says “not so fast, young man” by yanking against his wrist and causing a sharp sting. With a huff, he rips the cord and needle from his forearm and rolls his eyes while walking out of his room. 

 

He’s wearing slippers, is injured, and is shuddering with cold, but he could care less about all that inane shit when he has Sammy to worry about. Dean knows he’s probably wandering about like a drunk guy—like the one who rammed his car into his Baby just after midnight, during a fucking Zeppelin song because god is a cynic—because he can feel himself walking in a zigzagging pattern instead of a straight line, one that someone who hadn’t suffered a traumatic brain injury would follow. 

 

The staff must really hate their jobs because he’s able to make it past almost every nurse in the ward before somebody stops him, most likely noticing his patient getup and altered state of awareness. Looking to his left to find the source of the voice, he sees that a young woman with dark red hair and a pudgier and shorter stature than her coworkers, is staring at him with piercing brown eyes through her thick glasses. Her badge says “INTERN” on it—poor thing. 

 

The girl who’s name card reads ‘Lily’ stands up onto shaky legs. “You...are you—“

 

“Name’s Dean, pleasure to meet you,” Dean gives her his best flirtatious smirk and starts off in another direction. 

 

Lily stops him with a more authoritative tone. “No, I meant to ask if you were meant to be up and walking.” 

 

Clicking his tongue, he lets out a chuckle and clasps his hand over his ribs in pain. “Not really, sugar, but I don’t have time for R&R. I need to find someone.” 

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. Look, I've been here thirteen hours and I don't need this,” the redhead reaches for her phone while maintaining eye contact. 

 

Dean bolts over to the desk and hunches over in agony, still determined to find his brother. Lily stands up and moves to help him, but he declines by putting his hand up in front of her. “Please. Please, don’t call any Nurse Ratched on me. I was just in a car accident. My head hurts like a bitch, I don’t know where I am...I need to find—“

 

“Name?” 

 

“Sorry?” The bowlegged man cocks his head and removes his hand from his chest. 

 

Lily smiles at him and repeats herself. “The person you’re looking for: what’s their name?” 

 

“Oh, uh—Sam, his name is Sam,” Dean stutters. “S-Sam Winchester.”

 

The boys stopped giving aliases after the whole Leviathan incident after someone suggested to the police that the Winchesters' real last name was Wesson (thanks, Charlie), so it's much easier to give out their names now. Yes, they probably should continue to hide their identities, but god knows they don't give two shits anymore.

 

The woman clicks at her keyboard and writes down a four digit number on a miniature sticky note, hands it to him, and points to the directory on the wall. “Go up to floor five and pick up the unit phone. Be sure to say Sam’s first and last name followed by his room number when you get there.” 

 

Relieved, Dean thanks her and almost sprints to the elevators. When the door opens, he’s greeted by a man and his two daughters staring at him like he’s a zombie. Then he remembers: he’s barefoot, dressed in hospital garb, and has multiple bandages. He probably looks like Frankenstein's monster.

 

“I-it’s nothin’,” he jokes to the father. “Y’should see the other guy.” 

 

His comment makes the older girl, probably fourteen, giggle. Her sister, a small brunette toddler, gargles and claps her hands up at him from her stroller. Unable to resist, he leans down, gives the child a high five with a smile on his face, and stands up in immense pain just before the elevator doors open to reveal a whole new ward. Dean nods at the man, who smiles and pushes the trolley out of the small space while whispering "let's go see Mommy." The middle-aged father holds his arm up to the camera to show his wristband, which prompts the clerk to open the doors. Dean, however, approaches the wall phone and picks it up, as he has no band to permit his entry. 

 

The person who answers the call sounds like a teenaged boy, and he winces at the intensity of his voice before he’s able to process the questions he’s being asked. 

 

“‘m here for Sam Winchester,” Dean mutters into the phone, then remembers the sticky note now molded into to his hand, “oh, uh, room 0502.” 

 

To his surprise, the door opens and he’s allowed inside the ward. The first thing he notices is the teen who let him in, staring at him in shock when he sees the state he’s in. It hurts to walk, sure, but he’s had worse, so he walks over to the desk and smiles. 

 

“Everyone keeps lookin’ at me like I’m dying,” he cracks a joke and the kid, who’s name tag reads ‘VOLUNTEER,’ grins shyly in return. “Where’s 0502...exactly?”

 

‘Kevin’ points his finger at the sign on the wall and mutters “to the left, four doors down,” making Dean beam. “Thank you.”

 

He’d usually make conversation, but he’s too nervous and anxious to reach Sam. He narrowly misses crashing into a pregnant lady when he turns the corner but makes it to the cracked open door of room 0502 in one piece. Before he can knock on the door, however, he hears talking from inside. On the door handle, a sign hangs: ‘Consult In Progress—See Desk Clerk.’ Underneath that, a magnet with the name 'DR. S. LEAHEY' is crookedly flung onto the door.

 

Well, fuck. 

 

Dean doesn’t want to go to a waiting room or back to his own room—he just wants to see his Sammy and make sure he’s alright. Instead of trudging away, he leans against the wall and waits. Unable to resist temptation, he begins tuning in to the conversation between Sam and a doctor, which makes his heart ache. 

 

Sam is bawling inside his room and obviously trying to stop, but he just can’t. The doctor with him makes no effort to comfort him with words, but instead walks over to a machine and flicks it on, making him calm down. The grainy screen shines light that Dean can see under the door, perplexing him.

 

“Mr Winchester, there is no reason to panic. Vitals are good, heartbeat is steady...everything looks good,” the doctor says in a futile attempt to get him to stop hyperventilating. 

 

Sam, who’s freaking out, fumbles with his hands and exhales. “Are you positive? What if...what if you missed something? A-a million things could’a happened and I can’t shake the feeling that I...that something happened.”

 

“Look here,” she points to a screen—Dean can tell by her shadow moving—and Sam grows silent. “See? There’s no haemorrhage, no rupture, no abnormality. In fact, everything looks better than okay. There is no reason to worry, Sam. If there was something wrong, we’d see it here or in the blood tests.”

 

“So...” he breathes slower and deeper, obviously getting himself under control. Dean can almost see him start to smile. “So, s-she’s alright?”

 

The doctor turns off the machine and nods, the sound of a paper towel rustling and a printer printing assaulting the older brother’s ears. “She’s perfectly alright, sir. I do want you to see an OB more frequently, though. You say you move around a lot, but it’s important that you check up on her regularly.  It doesn’t need to be the same doctor, but once you get to that thirty-two to thirty-six week mark, you should start settling down and finding a place to stay for a few months. Constant travel puts stress on the body.

 

Also, I know we spoke about this before, but I recommend a cesarean section when the time comes or at the very least a scheduled induction. You're a ball of stress and the last thing you need is to have a panic attack when it happens. And take your vitamins and the noretriptyline I've prescribed—which is covered by your insure, I checked—to keep everything stable until you're due."

 

Sam mumbles a “yes ma’am” and thanks her as she leaves. 

 

Dean, on the other hand, is a confused mess when the doctor finds him outside Sam’s door, jumping at his presence. He has tears in his eyes and nods at the door, earning him a sigh from the woman who he knows as Doctor Leahey from her tag. 

 

“Are you Dean?” The doctor asks him and, upon seeing him nod, ushers him to the deserted nurse’s station with a stern frown. “Sam told me you might be coming by. I’m not sure it’s beneficial for you to see him right now.”

 

“Wh-what? Are you fucking joking?” Dean grumbles and has to resist the urge to kick a wall. He doesn’t want another injury (or felony on his record), and so he calms himself down by taking a deep breath—which turns out to be a bad idea, as he winces at the pain that comes after. “He needs me...I need him. Please, doc. What do you think I'll do, hurt him?”

 

Doctor Leahey shakes her head and gestures toward the closed door to Sam’s room. “No, I don't think you would, at least not intentionally."

 

The older brother squints his eyes at the short brunette. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"What I mean is that Sam is under an immense amount of stress on top of the pain from his injury," she adjusts her stethoscope around her neck and softens her gaze. "Sir, his body went into neurogenic shock in the ambulance because he thought that the crash had caused an injury in utero. It's shocking that he even made it to the hospital without flat-lining. It’s not everyday that I have patients warn me about one specific person but when I do, I take their warnings very seriously.” 

 

He’s shed a few tears while he was speaking and leans against the wall to support his body, which is broken physically and spiritually. “So he doesn’t wanna see me?” 

 

She shakes her head, much to his confusion. “No, he does. He just doesn’t want you to see him. Mr Winchester said that you may have an...adverse reaction to seeing him in this state. A reaction that can’t be avoided, per se, but is an unnecessary stressor while he’s in this condition.”

 

“I don’t care, I need to see him,” Dean retorts in an angry tone. He disregards the fact that this woman is his brother’s doctor, and almost yells at her. 

 

The doctor puts a hand up to him, looks behind her, and sighs. “If you go in there and react badly, you _will_ cause serious problems for Sam, guaranteed. We have put him on a dose of meperidine for the pain and to sedate him in the event of another anxiety attack, but hear me when I say that the smallest amount of stress could both incapacitate him and cause a miscarriage.” 

 

Time stops in Dean’s head and he thinks he’s heard wrong, that he has to have heard this woman wrong, or she's pulling his leg. Sam can't miscarry, and this is cruel fucking joke if he's ever heard one. “T-that’s...he can’t have a miscarriage, that’s not possible.”

 

Leahey stares at him and narrows her eyes. “Of course it’s possible. If Sam is put under too much stress, the baby won’t be able to cope and he may lose the pregnancy. Miscarriage is an unfortunate and serious risk, especially with pregnancies in people with PMDS. There’s also a risk of stillbirth, which is common at this point in viability after five months. He’s a primigravida as well and has no support system, which worries me. The least you can do, Dean, is help him stay calm.”

 

To Dean, the sky is falling. The sky is falling and he doesn’t know what to do: does he scramble, try to hide, scream, or accept it? Everything seems to be connecting in a way that makes him want to vomit. Logically, everything makes too much sense: they got drunk and slept together about half a year ago and never spoke about it, and Sam got a nasty case of the stomach flu just over a month later and it lasted awhile, but he stopped worrying and making a big deal out of it after a trip to the grocery store. Since then, he’s been secretive. He’s put up a fight about going on hunts, hasn’t had a drink in months, and even looks a little bigger (not that he’d ever tell him that). Everything makes far too much sense and Dean can’t handle it. 

 

Sam’s pregnant with his baby, and he didn’t even know until right now. 

 

“Sir?” Doctor Leahey looks concerned when Dean meets her gaze again, now fully crying and as pale as a ghost. 

 

He puts a fake smile on his face and sniffs back some tears. “I won’t stress him out. I swear on my life. If I do, you have my full permission to clock me in the jaw and have me arrested.” 

 

She ponders this for a minute but nods, walking toward the doors to the unit. “I’ll assign a nurse to stand by the door.”

 

Never did he think that he’d be here, standing outside his brother’s hospital room after finding out that he’s going to be a dad. No...no, a dad would know about their child and be there to support Sam throughout his pregnancy. He’s just a father at best and a random ejaculation at worst. 

 

Dean wills himself to enter the dimly-lit room after finding himself imagining what their child would look like once they’re born, not bothering to knock before stepping across the threshold into a new reality. 

 

Sam’s head snaps up to greet who he thinks is the doctor but his weak half-smile falls when he sees his big brother standing there like a helpless child. In an instant he’s scared to death and presses something that Dean can’t see to his chest, breaths growing rapid and shaky. Now knowing the potential consequences of Sam being under stress, he rushes over to him as though he’s known this whole time and kneels in front of his bed like he’s about to pray. 

 

“No, no, no, please calm down,” Dean’s hoarse voice breaks the silence in the room. He swears he didn’t say these words, that someone else did, but nonetheless continues. “Please tell me you’re okay, Sammy. I can’t—I can’t lose you. Us Winchesters are not meant to go out in some stupid car wreck.” 

 

At this, Sam lets out a chuckle and lets his breathing even out but refuses to make eye contact. He still holds something hidden over his heart. “‘m fine. Or, I’ll be okay. You, though...you look like shit.” 

 

“Don’t I know it,” the older brother mumbles and winces at the pain in his chest, which no longer only stems from his injuries. He looks at what Sam’s holding and nods. “What’cha got, jerk?” 

 

The brunet’s face drops the second the last word leaves his brother’s mouth and he grows defensive. “N-nothing. It’s nothing.” 

 

Not wanting to push this further, Dean stops talking and lowers his head. His eyes try to find where the hem of Sam’s shirt meets the cinched waistband of his pants and when he does, he has to choke back a sob. He does have a bump: it’s small, sure, but it’s there. The man’s been wearing older, baggier clothes these last few months and Dean just thought he was self conscious. Turns out he was right, but not in the way he expected. 

 

Taking a leap of faith, he reaches out and grabs the hand that he’s not holding to his shirt. “Sammy, I’m so, so sorry. I should’a known that something was different. I-I mean, because of me, everything’s all fucked up and we won’t be able to—“

 

“Whoa, dude, calm down,” the younger of the two shakes his head in surprise. “What are you talking about, De?”

 

“I’m talkin’ about how I won’t be able to be a father to our baby because I...I _abandoned_ you to do this by yourself and I’m so sorry.”

 

Dean breaks down as soon as the words leave his mouth. Salty tears streamline down his cheeks and are absorbed by the scratchy hospital blanket as he sobs for his future, one he won’t be able to have with Sam because he thought it’d be better to keep his feelings under wraps and to ignore the one night he actually felt something close to love. He thought he’d protect his fragile masculinity by ignoring what they’d done but in reality, all he did was ruin the life he never knew he wanted. 

 

Meanwhile, Sam’s in shock. He’s freaking out about how Dean could’ve found out, who told him, and what comes next. Will he hit him? Abandon him? _Kill_ him? All these things have plagued his nightmares over the last six months and they’ve become so cemented into his brain that he never even thought his brother could react well to the news. He never thought there was a chance in hell that Dean would react to finding out he got him pregnant like he’s reacting right now. 

 

“Don’t,” Sam shakes his head and looks down at Dean, who’s still crying over not being able to love someone he’s never met. “De, please don’t. You never abandoned me. I...I‘m the stupid one, trying to protect myself and the baby from you even though you wouldn’t have hurt us. And for that, I’m sorry.” 

 

Dean lifts his head from the mattress and stares at his brother with reddened eyes. “You aren’t stupid. You’re a great dad, Sammy. You’ll be a great dad.” 

 

Silence captures the both of them for a moment before Sam finds his voice again beneath all that rubble and uses it to change their lives for what he hopes is the better. “You’ll be a great dad, too.” 

 

“What?” The sandy blond hunter is confused at his words. Why hasn’t he been defenestrated yet? Then, he gets it; or, he hopes he’s thinking the same thing as Sam. “A-are you sayin’ that you’ll l-let me be in our baby’s life? In your lives?”

 

When his little brother nods with a smile, Dean swears he can see heaven: it’s looking back at him with sunflower eyes that, though hazy with narcotics, scream happiness and hope for their future. Despite the pain in his body, he stands up and wraps Sam in an embrace so emotional it could kill them, only letting go when he hears the younger groan in pain. 

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles with a small laugh. 

 

Sam bites his lip and removes his hand from his chest, revealing a small black and white print that was once obscured from Dean’s view. “Why wouldn’t I let you in our daughter’s life, De?”

 

Jerking his head up, Dean swears he gets whiplash from the motion until he sees that Sam is extending his hand out to hand him the piece of paper. When he looks at it, his heart stops. Right there in his hands is a picture of their child, and the baby looks like she's sucking her thumb. He's smitten, head-over-heels for these two people. If his joy was a balloon, it would’ve popped ages ago given the ecstasy he’s experiencing. 

 

“Oh my god,” he whimpers, still laughing to himself. The agony he felt before has been dulled, and he has this wonderful man and their baby to thank for that. Lifting his eyes to Sam’s, he sees the love he has for him and has had for him since forever—all it took for him to realize was to accept it. “We’re having a girl?” 

 

Sam nods but before Dean can get emotional again, he grabs his hand and brings it to his midsection. This is the first time they’ve been this close in ages and the older hunter never wants to part again. He spreads his fingers out to splay over Sam’s swollen middle and swears he can feel the warmth radiating from the life within. 

 

“Say something,” he whispers, looking at Dean. When he gives him a confused look back, Sam laughs. “No, seriously: she’s been kicking me nearly every time you’ve spoken since I was fourteen weeks along.” 

 

It’s like Sam is trying to kill him! All this happiness is bound to make his head explode, but at least he’ll go out a happy man. God, never thought he’d be so excited over something so small (literally). 

 

“Okay,” Dean exhales and sits beside Sam, hand still resting on his stomach. “Um...hi, baby girl. Th-this is your dad...”

 

Before he can say another word, he feels a nudge against his hand and jumps like a jolt of electricity is sparking through his veins. 

 

“H-o-o-ly _shit!_ That was a Winchester kick right there!”

 

The younger brother belly-laughs at his reaction. "Yeah, I know. She's aggressive. I guess she just wants you to know that you're her dad."

 

These words send Dean over the edge with happiness and he clasps his hand over his mouth. In his exuberance, he forgets that they’re not “on those terms” and kisses Sam like they’ve done it a thousand times. He catches himself eventually, but he doesn’t want to let go, and he realizes that he doesn’t have to when his little brother pulls him closer. 

 

Sam’s cardiac monitor spikes a bit, but that’s alright. In the end, he has a steady beat.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. You made it. Uh...in that case, I'm sorry.


End file.
